Who said romance and Christianity are mutually exclusive? Eh? Who said? Whoooo ssaaaiiiiddd? Show me his house and I’ll tell him something! You see it’s such misconceptions that leave our gorgeous curvaceous sistrenes at the mercies of R Kelly, Chris Brown, Taio Cruz and their sorts.

Answer me this, was Solomon of God or not? Don’t tell me being dolu and POP are characteristics of piety and don papa spiritoism. Come on come over here (Mortal Kombat style) and learn a line or two worhor worhor.

Ask Tele the advantages and heights his ‘Letters to my dear true wife’ has landed him and you’ll see that you’re doing yourself if the only vibe you got is…is…”Wooww sister Belinda, what a well moulded creation you are by the Almighty.” Come on bro! It’s not carnal to describe your wife’s body to her. In fact, it’s a very shpiritwa thing. So I’m going to show you what I mean with this made-for-the-mrs piece. Read More You Turn Me On!

I saw a Facebook post days ago that has me giggling till date. It was quoting some Nigerian who said something like “I find that statement; ‘there’s light at the end of the tunnel’ so disrespectful. I mean where I come from there is no light in my home, how much more anywhere near a tunnel? I mean if you want to symbolize hope in a phrase, tell me something like ‘there’s jollof at the end of the speech’ then eheeh, I can understand what you mean.’

I identify with that myself, but the conversation about things at the end of things is very interesting to me…just as interesting is the story about the man David feared and what was at the end of his tunnel.

Now David needs no introduction, I mean even before he got giant warriors Rolling On The Floor (not from laughter), he’d disciplined wild beasts. My favorite David feat though is how in exchange for Saul’s daughter’s hand in marriage he managed to return with the foreskins of 200 philistine soldiers. Pause. Can you imagine the amount of work that goes into getting that many foreskins from unwilling warriors? I don’t think any wanzam has achieved a fraction of that yet. Read More The Man David Feared Gidigidi!

So the first part to this story seems to have caused quite a stir. It’s been a long wait and i’ve lost count of the number of emails that have come in demanding this. You have no idea how relieved I am that this’ done. You were patient, so in appreciation I have a surprise waiting for you at the end of this read. I promise you never ‘esperred’ it, but you’d love it.

So picking up from where Kingsley sprung up on Maame that he had a confession to make, here goes;

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She arrived at Alisa some minutes late. When he saw her, when he beheld her, she would have been worth many more hours of waiting for.

“It’s…it’s fine” he stuttered. The waiter came with his plastic smile one, Kingsley beckoned him to give them a minute.

“I have a confession to make Maame. Please don’t judge me.”

“Can I have a drink first?” it was a question, but with the subtlety of a statement.

“Sure.”

Maame wasn’t thirsty, but she’d rather gulp kerosene than be caught unawares. She needed the time to work her mind, to psyche it, to think of all the unimaginable things he could say, to conceive news so terrible that he couldn’t shock or disappoint her. It was one of her many defense mechanisms.

She smiled and took her pretty time to sip on the glass the waiter had just filled up. Kingsley was gittery. It was like being underwater and running out of air; he had only so much nerve.

“I have a daughter, she’s four years old.” He blurted.

She said nothing, her face revealed nothing.

“Last day of Legon, we got too excited. We knew we didn’t belong, but I didn’t see how I could turn away from my responsibility. So four years later, I still think my Lisa is the most adorable daughter ever.”

“I see.”

“Do you? Maame? Because I’m fully aware that what I’ve said could cost me you. It’s possible you’ll decide that this’ just too much weight. I told you because I hoped you’d realize that if at the risk of losing you before I even stood a chance I still came clean with you, there’d be nothing I’d hold back –ever.”

Dang this guy was good! Or was he? By the way, who does that? Lays a ton on a first date? Who told him he stood a chance? O wait, he said he knew he didn’t. Eii, too much to process and look calm at the same time. Time to detour. Read More The Smirnoff Rapist -II

At first I thought it was just the gbush gbush kye beat that endeared me, but then the chorus grew on me too; ♬Don’t mess with my clique clique clique♪♪. And that’s what made that song a hit on my non-spirito charts. Hip hop isn’t alone in the promotion of cliques, all the major telcos have special rates for you and your best friends. There are cliques everywhere; primary schools, churches, prison, even God has a clique; the 12 elders. Jesus had a clique and Mary and Lazarus were in it. If you don’t have a clique though then you just come and use your cloth to tie mine.

I was never one for cliques, because me-ah I wasn’t a cool kid back in the day and since that was the only worthwhile clique to be in, I thought it best to remain clique-less. Then much later I became emotionally lazy and it seemed like too much work managing and aligning with the whims, interests and habits of several people. But I’ve changed, I’m so much better now, and I cherish the extremely ambitious, very assertive and incredibly selfless friends God has given me. They’re like me in that we don’t do the whole “the proof that we’re friends is that we talk often and hang out often’ thing. Some of my closest friends, I don’t get to speak with in weeks or months, but when we do, ooh my oh my oh my! You’d think we’d never been apart. I love that.

For three years he pursued her. He called her even for reasons as lame as “Is the fresh air in your area fresh tonight?” she lives in Nsawam, but his feelings made the frequent journeys from Adenta feel like a stone throw. He did all he could to show how serious he was about her, but she wouldn’t budge.

“You guys are all the same” she’d say to herself “You move mountains and do anything just to get into a woman’s panties, then she becomes a nuisance after.”

So she threw him off, kept giving him funny excuses. Then out of the blue when she got in the mood she’d send him an “IMU” on whatsapp. Then he’d jack-up like a dog finally let outside two weeks after the start of the mating season. He’d resume calling frequently, making the pilgrimage and doing all those otoolege things. Then she’d throw him off, then the cycle continued.

I used to think praying about marriage was as much a preserve for girls as pregnancy is. I couldn’t imagine a real hunk on his knees praying to God about his future wife and kids. That was downright spiritual gayism! I mean who does that, right? Just go through as many chics as you can, settle with one at the time you feel you want to marry in as much the same way as you choose a chair in a ‘Musical Chairs’ game, and still keep it going with the mistresses. Or, if you were a better man than that, just make enough money and choose the one you had the best sex with, right?

Or, or, or, just send word to your village for a fine girl to be made available to you and just rule your house like the overlord you are right? Who wants to be challenged in his house! You want to be served. You want to summon a woman, issue orders and have it executed with no protest, because after all, you’re the man right? The harrdddest guy. Lol. Boyyyyy have times changed! Wait, I don’t think it’s time that’s changed, rather sensibility has settled in fully.

I’ve always maintained that good women are the dreams of dolu good guys and the desired destinations of smart bad boys. I’ve never been more convinced of that than now.

Before you start, I must clarify; I’m not the guy in the image above, he’s better looking 🙂 That being said, this year has been extraordinary. At the start of it when I was saying all those fancy prayers and asking God to break and mold and do all the work that must be done, I had no idea He was taking me so seriously. But now 2015 is hours away and there is no iota of doubt about whose grace has done this.

This year, I’ve gone out of many comfort zones, telling you potentially scandalous stories and just spoirring myself. To crown it all, in this last post, I have done the one thing I could have sworn I’d never do; making a voice-recording. Now I really have done it all!

It’s a pretty big deal because I’m very conscious of how I sound. I think it’s the weirdest thing listening to myself in a recording, but I so badly wanted you to hear (not read) what I had to say. In putting this up, I am suppressing a million thoughts and reasons saying it’s a bad idea. I mean with regular posts if you like/dislike something it’s mainly based on how I wrote, but now there’s “Ooo, he sounds funny, oo he has a lisp, oo was that a st-sta-staaaamer? Oooo he gbaaa, oo, he’s trying too hard, ooo is that accent Ewe? Ooo….Read More My 1st Voice Note To You.

This was one of the most popular posts on Goldinwords before the hack (back then I had the faith to get a license, but the car was still a prayer topic). I enjoyed writing it because it was such a beautiful challenge. There are several misconceptions about Christmas and the birth of Jesus, but the opinionated donkey that transported Mary to Bethlehem enlightens us today.

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I can talk to animals! No jokes. I discovered this rare gift last Thursday when I was returning home from work. There was a dog snail-crossing the road my troskie was speeding on. I was sitting in the front passenger seat and the driver looked like he’d had enough with these more-daring-than-men creatures. He was intent on running the dog over. In dreadful horror I closed my eyes, tightened my butt cheeks, twitched my toes and bit my lips. It dawned on me that the dog must have been born on a Tuesday, so in my mind I screamed “Kwabena, son of a bitch. Quicken your steps lest your lazy walk ends you up in animalistic hell.” There and then noorr the dog leaped and barely escaped the tires of the thundering rusty tin of a bus.

I looked back to be sure, and he held my gaze for a few seconds before reducing to a dot as my troskie rattled on. It was strange but undeniable when I heard in my ears “Mortal man, you saved my life, God bless you. I’ve impregnated some of the babes in the area, you can have a pup when they’re due.”

My eyes widened like two 50 pesewa coins as I slammed my back into the seat I was in. ‘My gosh!’ I thought ‘I am a mutant. I had to contact my X-Men family!

But of all the mutant gifts I could have, why that? Why not Cyclops’s cool laser-eyes or Wolverine’s super strength and fast-healing abilities? At least kraa, if my Animal Language Fluency (ALF) powers could be topped up with some Magneto ability, I’ll be attractive in more than one sense of the word ;-). But o well, at least I had something most mortals didn’t have, or you do?

So in what way was I going to use my new-found gift to most impact humanity? I thought hard and long, then it clicked “Wait a minute, it’s Christmas, and we all know how Mary, Joseph, the three wise men, the shepherds, Herod and the Inn keeper felt about the birth of baby Jesus, but what about the animals in that manger? What’s their take on everything? Who has cared to ask them, to find out if what they saw was what exactly the Bible says happened? I decided to summon and interrogate a key eyewitness.

O yeah, I didn’t say earlier, but my mutancy allows me to do more than communicate with animals, I can summon them as well, even from as far back as 001BC. And that’s what I did; I linked up with Don Kay, the Mary transporter. He was grumpy and felt uncomfortable in my 21st century crib, but my curiosity was intense, I really wanted to know what happened, so I went straight to my questions.

Me: So how did you feel about having been the means of transport?

Don Kay: Okay. I mean yeah, from Nazareth to Bethlehem’s a long trip; three miles less than Accra to Kumasi, and we did it on my back! At the time, I didn’t know I was part of history being made and animal rights were unpopular then, so I was just doing my job you know.

I confess, I purposely omitted the epilogue. I wanted to see if you’d write or squirm or rant and I am delighted about your reaction. Is this the kind of thing I’ll need forgiveness for? Lol, I hope not. Anyways, for the end bit of the story, you can either download it HERE, or click on the image below, or do the reading right here, just keep scrolling down. So really, it’s entirely your decision now. Let me know if you liked it? Here goes…I Love Her Husband (epilogue)

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Click to Download Epilogue

We left off here... Kobe was bursting into the restaurant at the time Trixy was walking out. They stood in each other’s way for melting moments. Trixy tried hard to keep her smile, but her tear-stained face spoke volumes.

“Love you Kobe.” she kissed his cheek, the half a dozen diners felt the tension, and it told in their unnatural silence “Good bye.” Not see you later, What kind of a man are you? Or How could you do this to me…but Good bye. She didn’t add ‘for good’ but it lingered in her silence, and in how she turned and walked out the door.

[THE END? Not exactly]

Chapter 5

Kobe caught up with his wife in the parking lot, but her reflexive rigidity when he tried to touch her, to reason out his unredeemable stupidity, the sternness in her eyes, the coldness in her “leave me alone”, all culminated in rendering him speechless. Like a stooge he stood by as the Honda Civic faded into two red brake lights as it revved into the distance of the windy Saturday evening.

When he reentered the restaurant, Samaa was sitting in the same position, her hand cupping her mouth, as if holding back the wrath of God.

“What did you do to her?” Kobe asked rashly, taking the seat his wife had been in minutes before.

“What did I do to her? What have you done to her? What are you doing to me?” she looked at him like a stranger, her eyes were heavier than a looming storm. The platform she’d been standing on had been snatched from underneath her feet, and now she was falling, clueless as to how deep and messed-up this abyss would turn out to be.

She closed her eyes, craving beautiful thoughts from the seemingly distant past to somehow trade places with this dreadful present. If she could find life’s control panel, she’d press ‘Pause’ for a breather. It was all too fast too soon. So many lies so many misrepresentations, did she even want to know why? Could it possibly ease the wrenching feeling surging within?

When there were just a few of us, I wrote a story that I liked. I wasn’t sure if everyone would feel the same about it, so I was blown away by the response. Over 5,000 reads and downloads! I got so many calls and e-mails from everywhere (literally!) about how sensational it was that I read it over and over again to check if perhaps they were seeing something I wasn’t. There were serious offers and plans to turn it into a musical, play, full novel and a TV series. I just might go through with one, just might.

Anyways, when we got hacked last year, those posts went down. Since then, I’ve been getting requests to re-post it. The last one came last week from @ferdiefresh via Twitter. So I thought “Why not?! We’ve more than doubled since and if even Read More I Love Her Husband -by popular request.